


Chandelier

by princessmiakitten



Category: Free!
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 21:58:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2483852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessmiakitten/pseuds/princessmiakitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He supposes the therapy is an addiction as well. He’s addicted to seeing warm, green eyes framed by glasses. He’s addicted to hearing the soft, gentle tenor speaking to him, trying to find the cause of his drinking.</p>
<p>His world is dark, and the only thing so blindingly bright about it is the green-eyed brunet that he sees everyday from 7:30 to 8:30 except on weekends and holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chandelier

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally supposed to be for soumako week but i was so busy that it never got done and here you go

One.

Two.

Three.

Drink.

Yamazaki Sousuke was a man of habit, and this was the worst habit of all.

Everyday at 9 in the evening, Yamazaki Sousuke would find himself at the corner stool of a shady bar in Shinjuku, throwing back his first tumbler full of whiskey.

First of many.

One.

Two.

Three.

Drink.

He doesn’t know if it’s the actual alcohol that brings him the loose feeling or the repetitive motions. Either way, he’s an addict and he can’t change no matter to how many sessions of therapy he goes.

He supposes the therapy is an addiction as well. He’s addicted to seeing warm, green eyes framed by glasses. He’s addicted to hearing the soft, gentle tenor speaking to him, trying to find the cause of his drinking.

He supposes if there’s anything good about his life, it’s his therapist, Tachibana Makoto.

His world is dark, and the only thing so blindingly bright about it is the green-eyed brunet that he sees everyday from 7:30 to 8:30 except on weekends and holidays.

Tachibana Makoto is a light so bright that Sousuke doesn’t know what to do. He wants to hold onto it, he wants to never let it go, but he’s so dark that he’s afraid that light will dim. And so he keeps these emotions locked up, instead bearing the rest of his mundane life to the man that seems to be an angel dropped from heaven itself.

Sousuke’s so caught up in his thoughts of Tachibana Makoto that it doesn’t even register in his head that the actual person has taken up the empty stool next to him and has greeted him. He thinks it’s all in his head. It’s a possibility that he could be imagining the man next to him as a product of wishful thinking. There’s no way the actual saint could be in the bar where Sousuke frequented. It was much too shabby and dark for someone like Tachibana Makoto.

Sousuke pinches himself under the table for good measure.

It doesn’t exactly hurt him since he’s at the point of intoxication that he doesn’t feel much of anything, but it’s enough for him to realize that he is, in fact, staring into the emerald green eyes of his therapist.

“Looks like you got started without me, Yamazaki-san.” Tachibana Makoto tilts his head to the side and his eyes close as he smiles, and Sousuke just wants to kiss him because he’s just that cute.

But he’s not drunk enough to gather up the courage to do that.

Instead he grunts in response, flagging the bartender over so Makoto can order his drink, and to his surprise, much like everything else, it ends up being five shots of Polish vodka. Sousuke watches as Makoto orders with a very serious expression, one that the raven had never seen before. It doesn’t make him doubt that Tachibana Makoto can handle his liquor.

However, it does make him wonder if Tachibana Makoto really should be the one counseling anyone with an alcohol problem.

Sousuke shrugs off the thought as he polishes off his drink. He’s lost count of how many he’s had already, but he’s a little hesitant about ordering another one since his therapist is sitting right next to him.

But he figures that if anyone knows the most about his drinking problem, it’s Tachibana Makoto, and so he motions for another shot of whiskey.

“This place is really nice. Quiet.” Makoto hums as he looks around. There weren’t many people, and Sousuke supposed that was one of the reasons he showed up here every night. He didn’t particularly like being around throngs of people. “I can see why you’d like this place, Yamazaki-san.”

There he goes again, doing his mind reading thing that kind of freaks Sousuke out because no one’s ever been able to read Sousuke. He’s always been stonefaced and cold, and then comes Tachibana Makoto with his warm eyes and inviting warmth and the annoying ability to figure Sousuke out without him saying anything.

Sousuke supposes that’s one of the reasons he finds himself coming back to Makoto every single day.

Habits.

“Call me Sousuke. We’re not in the office.” Sousuke speaks, eyes trained on the amber liquid in his glass, his voice rough. He almost doesn’t hear the sigh from the man next to him, and he wouldn’t have if every sense wasn’t so tuned to him.

“Only if you call me Makoto.” It was an absurd request to make, Sousuke thinks, since he doesn’t usually call people by their names. He’s usually one who nods his head in the direction of the person he’s addressing, but if that’s what Tachibana Makoto wants.

They sit in relative silence, Sousuke intrigued by the way the man next to him manages to take all five shots without hesitation and without even looking a little buzzed after. Tachibana Makoto was a mystery.

Sousuke clears his throat, and for the first time in his entire life, he initiates a conversation.

“Is there something on your mind, Makoto? I mean… I know you’re my therapist, but if you need to talk to someone…” Sousuke trails off because he doesn’t know how to articulate that he wants Makoto to talk to him about his troubles. He doesn’t know when it started, but he wants to protect this saint from anything and everything bad.

And the little, broken smile he sees is enough to make him want to pull the other into his arms and keep him there forever.

It’s strange.

He hates unnecessary contact.

Makoto looks as if he were to say something before his attention is directed to the door, and Sousuke notices that Makoto’s shoulders start to tense up as the person walks towards them.

The stranger wraps his arm around Makoto’s shoulders and Makoto smiles at him-- forced, uncomfortable. Sousuke tries not to punch him in the face. Bar fights were never something he was into, anyway.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t going to be home, Makoto?” Sousuke guesses that the man is a terrible actor since he can hear the anger behind supposedly gentle words. “I was so lonely without you.”

Sousuke pretends to not notice Makoto’s hand absentmindedly rub his side.

He wonders if it would make the situation worse if he speaks when the man tugs Makoto up from the chair. Makoto gives Sousuke a sombre smile when he’s led toward the bathroom.

It isn’t his business.

But it is because it’s his angel that’s in danger and his angel that needs to be protected and his angel that is scared.

He waits a few moments before heading to the bathroom himself, stopping just outside the door. Did he even need to go in? What if Makoto didn’t actually need him and he was just deluding himself? It was obvious that the stranger was something to Makoto.

Sousuke didn’t realize how long he had been standing there and just thinking until the man came out and sneered.

“You can have the little slut back. I’m done with him.”

He guesses that it’s the surge of fear mixed with adrenaline that makes his hand numb when he punches the man hard enough to cause a sickening crack from his nose and blood to spurt from his nostrils. It’s probably more fear that causes him to ignore the man yelling profanities in favor of rushing into the bathroom, teal eyes locked on the large, bloody build of Tachibana Makoto.

No amount of alcohol could numb the pain of seeing his angel broken on the bathroom floor of some trashy bar.

He’s immediately acting on instinct, making sure that Makoto is still breathing and that he can hear a heartbeat.

It’s steady, but weak, and he has to call the ambulance because he’s scared of losing his light.

He can tell it takes a lot of effort for Makoto to open his eyes and reach out for him, to cling to him like a lifeline as if he wasn’t Sousuke’s very thing.

Sousuke lies down on the cold, dirty floor, arms wrapping around the bloody figure.

“I’m here, angel.” The words tumble from his lips in a soft whisper as he combs through Makoto’s hair, red staining his tan fingers.

**  
**“I love you.”


End file.
